


Miss Otis Regrets

by LoriLee (cowgirl65)



Category: Big Valley
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-23
Updated: 2011-09-23
Packaged: 2017-10-23 23:42:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowgirl65/pseuds/LoriLee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jarrod is stood up for lunch.  based on the Cole Porter song of the same name</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miss Otis Regrets

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own any television show or any published work and make nothing from writing this other than cheap thrills

Jarrod sighed as he handed the messenger a coin for his trouble. “She didn’t say anything else?”

“N-no sir.” The boy looked a bit uneasy and left the café quickly. Jarrod sighed again, replaying the message in his mind.

 _Miss Otis regrets she’s unable to lunch today._

With no explanation and no offer to reschedule, it seemed as though his trip up to Auburn to arrange to purchase the Otis mine was going to prove fruitless. The lawyer decided to forgo lunch and just finished his coffee before putting down some change to pay for it. He wondered when the next train out was as he stepped into the bright California sunshine.

Hearing the angry shout of voices, Jarrod turned in the direction of the sheriff’s office. He saw people crowded around the building and loosened his gun in its holster when he saw a wiry, grizzled man hauled out of the office and set down on a bench outside. Jarrod knew a lynching mob when he saw one and that was definitely what was gathering.

“Now you just sit here, lawman, while we give that murdering tramp what she deserves.”

Jarrod edged closer, trying to gauge the mood of the mob. A man with a gun could reportedly stop a charging bull elephant, but only if that man had unshakable tenacity and good enough aim. Jarrod wasn’t sure about an elephant, but he knew he couldn’t back down from standing in the way of someone being hung without due process, even if that someone was actually guilty.

Then a woman was dragged out of the sheriff’s office with two burly men holding her. The woman, petite as she was, kicked and struggled, and one of the men uttered a curse as her foot hit him in the shin. Jarrod’s resolve hardened when he saw the marks of bruises across her face.

Jarrod waited until they dragged the woman to the front of the mob and then pulled his gun. “Let the lady go,” he ordered. His tone was commanding and the mob stopped in its tracks. Jarrod cocked the hammer. “I’m not going to ask twice.”

The man at the woman’s left arm scoffed. “And what’s the one of you gonna do against all of us?” he sneered.

Jarrod’s arm didn’t waver. “Well, I’ve got six shots in this pistol,” he said evenly. “Someone would get me sooner or later, but I reckon a half-dozen of you’ll be joining the undertaker along with me.” He was counting on most of the citizens of Auburn being decent, law-abiding folk who, in their right mind, would never gun down another man unless it was in self-defence.

Jarrod’s evaluation of the crowd proved to be accurate as the wild shouts turned into low mutters and most of the people started shifting uneasily while looking at their feet.

Only the two who held the woman continued to glare at Jarrod defiantly. She took the opportunity of their distraction to elbow one in the stomach while kneeing the other in the groin before making a mad dash over to Jarrod. He didn’t feel any sympathy towards the two, other than the usual wince such an injury produced in another man.

“Are they the ones who hurt you, ma’am?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the crowd that was beginning to disperse.

“No, sir,” she said in a soft voice. “But thank you.”

Jarrod took her gently by the elbow. “Now,” he announced as he guided her back to the sheriff’s office, “I am going to confer with my client. I trust you gentlemen have no objections.” No one said a word, they just glowered at Jarrod as he guided the young woman inside with the sheriff following and shutting the door.

“You a lawman, mister?” the sheriff asked as he sank into the chair behind a desk littered with papers, cups and bits of half-eaten sandwiches. He pulled a bottle out of a drawer. “Drink?’ he offered before Jarrod could answer and turned to the woman when Jarrod declined. “Miss Otis?”

Jarrod raised an eyebrow at finding out the identity of the woman he’d just saved from an angry mob as she also gave a small shake of her head. He now knew why the boy who delivered the message was so nervous.

“No thank you, sheriff.”

The sheriff just shrugged and picked up a glass from the desk. He peered into it and then set it back down before taking a hearty swig straight from the bottle.

“I’m not a lawman,” Jarrod told him, “but I am a lawyer. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to defend a client at gunpoint.” He turned to Miss Otis. “That is, assuming you’re looking for a lawyer.”

She gave him a strained smile. “I’d be grateful, sir. I don’t have any money right now, though…”

Jarrod chuckled. “Well, I think we can work something out.” He took off his hat and extended his hand. “I’m Jarrod Barkley. I believe we had some other business to discuss and I’m certain we can work my fee into any agreement we make.”

The sheriff wiped his mouth and recorked the bottle. “Reckon I’m going to have to put you into the cell again, Miss Otis,” he said as he got unsteadily to his feet. “Your lawyer can come along if he likes.”

Jarrod let the sheriff and Miss Otis precede him. He followed her into the cell. “I’ll call when we’re done,” he told the sheriff as the slightly drunken man locked the door behind him.

“I’ll be right outside.”

Jarrod hoped the man didn’t pass out before then. He also realized as the door to the office was shut that the sheriff hadn’t bothered to take his gun and trusted his new client wasn’t a hardened criminal. Pulling up the cell’s chair, Jarrod offered it to her and sat across from her on the small cot.

“I thank you for your timely intervention, Mr. Barkley,” she said as she sat.

Jarrod got right down to business. “Now, I don’t usually take a case without finding out some of the details first,” he told her, “so why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

The woman looked down at her hands and Jarrod took the opportunity to examine her as she thought about what to say. Miss Otis wasn’t very tall, but her posture was straight and strong and Jarrod got the impression she didn’t brook much nonsense. Her brown hair had been pulled back in a modest hairstyle, but a few wisps had escaped their confinement. Her dress was of satin and velvet and Jarrod surmised that she had been out for the evening when the events leading to her arrest had occurred. He also made careful note of the black eye and bruises on her cheeks, as well as what looked like a large handprint on her throat.

“I was to meet my fiancé for dinner," she said finally. “He’s the owner of the bank in Auburn since his father passed away a few months ago. The bank was closed, but he always leaves the back door open until all the employees are gone for the night. So since I was early, I decided to go in and wait for him. That’s when I saw them.” She looked up at Jarrod and he could see anger, bitterness and hurt in her hazel eyes. “He was with that little tramp, Sophie Anderson, who started working at the bank a couple weeks ago. He had her up on his desk and her legs were wrapped around him and they were…” She broke off and Jarrod could see her shaking with rage and contempt. “I told him just what I thought of him and then he started hitting me. He had his hands around my throat and I thought he was going to kill me.” A sob escaped from her throat and Jarrod reached out to take her hand reassuringly. “I always carry a small pistol, a lady never knows when she might need to defend herself. I pulled it out and I… I shot him dead.” There was a hint of grief in her voice, but the look she gave him held no obvious regret.

Jarrod patted her hand. “Well, it seems a straightforward case of self-defence,” he assured her. “I’ll find out when the circuit judge will be in town and get the charges dropped.” He winked at her. “And then we can discuss my purchase of the gold mine your father left you.”

*

Jarrod helped Miss Otis onto the train. The mood of the town was still hostile even after the shooting was ruled self-defence as the banker had been one of its favourite sons, so with the proceeds from the sale of the mine to the Barkleys, she was determined to make a fresh start in Sacramento. As the train pulled out of the station, Jarrod turned to his travelling companion.

“Now, Miss Otis, how about lunch?”

**Author's Note:**

>  **Miss Otis Regrets** – written by Cole Porter, 1934
> 
>  
> 
> Miss Otis regrets she’s unable to lunch today, madam.  
> Miss Otis regrets she’s unable to lunch today, mmmmmm.  
> And she’s sorry to be delayed,  
> But last evening down at lover’s lane  
> She strayed, madam.  
> Miss Otis regrets she’s unable to lunch today.
> 
> When she woke up and found  
> That her dream of love was gone, madam,  
> She ran to the man  
> Who had lead her so far astray.  
> And from under her velvet gown  
> She drew a gun and shot her lover down, madam.  
> Miss Otis regrets she’s unable to lunch today.
> 
> When the mob came and got her  
> And dragged her from the jail, madam,  
> They strung her up  
> On the willow across the way.  
> And the moment before she died  
> She lifted up her lovely head and cried, madam.  
> Miss Otis regrets she’s unable to lunch.  
> Miss Otis regrets she’s unable to lunch today.


End file.
